Unity

by Steven Harper

Six made a noncommittal noise and leaned over Gaius’s shoulder to peer at his desk. Her low-cut blue dress showed a generous amount of cleavage that Gaius couldn’t help but watch. He had seen her naked hundreds of times, but she was far more alluring when he couldn’t see everything. Her dress made her a mystery, a sly secret. His groin tightened further.

  “All these worthless papers,” she said. “Someone like you should have a secretary or an aide to handle this.” She abruptly straightened. The movement took her cleavage out of his line of sight, revealing a stack of papers instead. Gaius was about to turn his attention elsewhere when some words on the top sheet caught his eye. He snatched up the paper in question. He would have never seen it if not for Six abruptly removing her arresting cleavage.

  “What is it, Gaius?” Number Six asked, all innocence.

  “A memo,” he said, reading. “It has Roslin’s name on it. It must have come to me by mistake.” His eyes tracked across the page and his expression became more and more agitated. “My gods! This … this is … it’s outrageous!”

  Six leaned over his shoulder again, this time to read. “’ … and we have found two more sound technicians, bringing the total up to five. That should be all Peter needs.’ So what?”

  “So what?” Gaius flung the paper down and stormed around his desk into the lab. “So what? How can you not see it?”

  “Explain, Gaius,” she said tiredly. “I’m getting bored.”

  He pointed an shaking, outraged finger at the offending paper. “Read the date.”

  She did. “Tomorrow. So?”

  “So? This concert, this … travesty is scheduled for the same time as my lecture.” He ran his hands through his hair and stalked about the lab like an angry stork. “I’m going to look like an idiot”

  “Because no one will come to your lecture?”

  “What? No! Because no one will go to the concert” He leaned his fingertips on a granite-topped table. “Everyone knows me. I’ve saved the Fleet gods know how many times, and I’m the bloody vice president They’ll all come to my lecture, Peter Attis will play to an empty concert hall, and I’ll look the villain for humiliating him. Fantastic. Just fantastic.”

  Six moved around the desk, her hips swaying like willow withes. “Fame is a difficult burden to bear, Gaius.”

  “It’s unfair, to me and to him.” He ran his hands through his hair again. “Maybe I should talk to Attis, see if he’d be willing to reschedule for his own good.”

  “That’s what I love about you, Gaius,” Six said, perching on the edge of his desk. “You’re always thinking of others.”

  “Check ‘em out, boys and girls.” Kara Thrace sailed into the pilots’ quarters, holding a small envelope aloft with undisguised glee. “Two—count ’em, two—tickets to the Peter Attis interstellar tour and a pair of backstage passes.” She gave the envelope a loud kiss. “Mine, mine, mine.”

  “And all you had to do was save his life to get them,” Kat said without malice. “Bitch.”

  “Next time, I’ll let you find the escape pod.”

  “Those things are impossible to get,” said Brendan “Hot Dog” Constanza. He looked at Kara over his hand of cards. “A buddy of mine got in line six hours before they went up for grabs, and they still ran out before he got one. I mean, they’re going to televise it and everything, but there’s nothing like a live concert. It’s been a frakking long time since I’ve seen one.”

  “Billy could have gotten us tickets,” Dee said. She wasn’t a pilot, but was often found at the nightly card game. “But he has to go with the president and Commander Adama, so I’ll just watch it on TV.”

  “Since when are you a Peter Attis fan, Hot Dog?” Lee asked. He tossed a chip into the pot.

  “Since never,” Hot Dog said. “But any concert beats playing cards with you frak-heads.”

  “And since when do you play Full Colors, Lee?” Kara turned a chair around and faced the group over its back.

  “I’m a man of many talents.”

  “Yeah? Prove it. You just started this hand, right? Deal me in, Dee.”

  Dee obligingly sent six cards Kara’s way. “Don’t forget to ante.”

  In response, Kara opened the envelope and slid a single ticket from it. She dropped it into the pot. “There.”

  “No shit,” Hot Dog said breathlessly.

  “Someone has to come with me,” Kara said. “It’s no fun to go alone.” She gave Lee an impish look. “You gonna fold?”

  “Frak, no. I’ve got a good hand here.”

  “What happens if you win, Starbuck?” Hot Dog asked. “Or are you playing to lose?”

  “Starbuck play to lose?” Kat snorted. “Right. May as well ask an Oracle to give you a straight answer.”

  “Damn right.” Kara pulled a small cigar from her breast pocket and lit it. “If I win, I get to choose which one of you reprobates accompanies me. And you have to wear your dress uniform.”

  “I’m still in,” Hot Dog said, dropping a chip.

  “What the hell,” Dee said, and put in a chip of her own. “Maybe Billy will get jealous.”

  Another round of betting went by. No one folded. Kara replaced three cards, and when the bet came around to her again, she held up one of the backstage passes for everyone to see. “Too rich for anyone’s blood?” She put it in the pot.

  “Frakking-A,” Kat breathed.

  Lee frowned at his cards. “I’ll stand.” He dropped three chips, then four more—a significant raise.

  “Ooooo,” Kat said. “I think he’s bluffing, trying to get us to drop out so he can get the ticket.”

  Lee gave her a wide-eyed, innocent look. “Put your money where your mouth is, then.”

  Kat met the raise, as did Dee and Hot Dog. Kara looked over her cards at Lee. Was Lee bluffing? She studied his expression. His face was cool, almost smug. She knew him well enough to recognize that look—he wasn’t bluffing. He had a great hand. Kara couldn’t stand Lee when he was smug. She had half a mind to fold and let him win, make him come to the concert for the sole reason that he hated Peter.

  “Any news on the escaped toaster?” Hot Dog asked.

  “Nothing I’ve heard,” said Kat. “It creeps me out that no one can find her. How can she just frakking disappear?”

  “The Galactica is a big place,” Lee said. His face went hard. Bill Adama was his father, and a copy of Sharon had shot him. When Kara had brought the current copy of Sharon on board, Lee had almost killed her on sight. Only Helo’s intervention had spared her. “And she isn’t human. She can get into places where normal people can’t.”

  “That’s one way to put it,” Hot Dog scoffed.

  “Maybe she left the ship,” Dee said. “Like that Godfrey woman. Remember her?”

  “Blond Cylon lady, yeah,” Lee said. “Just vanished. We never did learn how she got off the ship.”

  “Maybe she didn’t,” Kat said. “Maybe she stuck around and now she and the other Cylon are holding a toaster convention in the air vents.”

  Kara dropped a handful of chips into the pot. “Call,” she said loudly. “All right, guys and gals—show ’em.”

  Hot Dog sighed and spread his cards. “Half mast.”

  “One lord and a lady,” Dee said. “Guess I’ll join Hot Dog in the TV room.”

  “Two half masts,” Kat said. “Best so far.”

  “Apollo?” Kara asked sweetly. “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.”

  “I just want it known for the record,” Lee said, “that I’m not going to the concert, even though I’m about to win. Hot Dog, you can have the ticket.”

  “Really? Thanks, Captain!”

  “You don’t have a thing,” Kara said scornfully. “Spread ’em, Apollo.”

  “Start your weeping.” Lee laid down his cards one by one. “Full colors.”

  Hot Dog whistled. “Frak me!” He reached for the ticket and the backstage pass, but Kara was quicker. She caught his wrist.

  “A little overconfident
, are we?” she said, gently pushing his hand away. “Ladies and gentlemen, I give you the real winner of the evening.” And she laid down her cards.

  “Full colors,” Kat said. “Wow! Twice in the same hand! How often does that happen?”

  “So it’s a tie?” Dee asked.

  “Hardly.” Kara gestured at their respective cards. “The Captain’s cards are orange. Mine are pure purple goodness.”

  “She’s right,” Hot Dog said. “Colors decide in case of a tie.”

  “Come to mama.” Kara raked the chips toward her, then plucked the ticket and pass from the pile. “Let’s see. Who shall accompany me to the ball in dress black?”

  “Have I told you how lovely you look today, Lieutenant?” Hot Dog said. “And what is that divine scent? Are you wearing perfume?”

  “Aw, you can do better than that,” she scoffed.

  “Who’s the best pilot in the Fleet?” Kat said. “Why, I think it has to be Kara Thrace.”

  “It’s not flattery if it’s true,” Kara said. “Who else?”

  “I have the Commander’s ear,” Dee put in. “Captain Adama here may write the duty roster, but Commander Adama approves it. I can get you some sweet run times.”

  “Tempting, tempting,” Kara said. “And worthy of consideration. Lee?”

  “I already said I don’t want to go,” Lee replied, crossing his arms.

  “You’re just mad because I ruined your perfect—excuse me, near perfect—hand.”

  “Yeah, sure. Think what you want.” He got up. “I’m outta here.”

  “You can’t just leave,” Kara said, suddenly angry. “I haven’t made my decision yet.”

  He rounded on her, eyes flashing. “Who the frak cares? I don’t want to go, it won’t be me, so I’m not sticking around.”

  Kara’s temper flared higher. “Maybe it will be you, have you thought about that?”

  “I already said I don’t want to go!” Lee was almost shouting now.

  “Maybe I want you to go.” Kara raised her own voice to compensate.

  “Do you?” Lee yelled.

  “Yeah!”

  “Fine! I’ll go!”

  “Good!”

  “I’m thrilled!”

  “Meet me in the shuttle bay at seven!” Kara screamed, storming out the door. “Wear your blacks!”

  “I wouldn’t miss it!” Lee bellowed, stomping after her. “It’ll be fun!”

  They fled in opposite directions in the hallway. Behind them around the card table, two pilots and one petty officer stared at each other.

  “What the hell just happened?” Hot Dog asked.

  “I think,” said Kat, “that we’re all watching the concert on TV tomorrow. Meet in the TV room?”

  “You bring the ambrosia,” Dee said.

  CHAPTER 5

  The auditorium dressing room smelled of old makeup and cold cream. Gaius Baltar, seated at the dressing table, checked his reflection in the mirror. Hair—good. Face—excellent. Clothes—perfect. The visuals for his lecture were loaded in the auditorium computer, and the remote for the projector was in his pocket. He had no idea what sort of audience awaited him—it was bad luck to check beforehand—but he knew the enormous auditorium would be packed to the roof. He had bullied the fire marshal into allowing people to sit in the aisles once the initial ticket run had sold out. It had, in fact, sold out within a week after tickets had gone up for sale last month. Gaius checked his tie again.

  “So Peter Attis turned down your offer to change his concert, Gaius?” Number Six said.

  Gaius jumped and pushed his chair away from the mirror. Six had replaced his reflection, and she mimicked his movements. He raised a hand. She did the same.

  “More fool he,” Gaius said, and Six’s mouth moved in conjunction with his. “Would you stop that? It’s creepier than usual.”

  “I just wanted to get your attention.” And then she was perched prettily on the edge of the dressing table. “Being ignored is the worst possible fate. Forgotten, alone.”

  “You forgot ’in the dark.’”

  “You never talk to me anymore,” she said. “I always start our conversations. You never ask to see me—unless you want something.”

  “I’ve been busy,” he said shortly, getting to his feet. “In fact, I have a lecture to give. I’m going to check the audience right now. The tickets sold out, but I’m curious.”

  And then Six was in front of him, her expression hard as iron. “Don’t ignore me, Gaius. You owe me everything.” She put both hands on his lapels and gave him a firm shove backward. “Who’s more important to you—me or those trogs out there?”

  Startled, Gaius back up another step. “I have to be on stage in five minutes.”

  “And you can’t spare me four of them?” She grabbed his tie and yanked him into a kiss. Her tongue was warm on his. Six sat on the makeup table, wrapped her legs around his torso, and pulled him to her. His body responded, and he didn’t try to resist. He didn’t want to. Six could always do this to him. At one time he had tried to fight her, but these days, he didn’t bother. One had to take what diversions came one’s way.

  Just as they finished, a voice came over the intercom. “One minute, Dr. Gaius.”

  Six sighed theatrically as they parted. “Break a leg. Preferably someone else’s.” And she was gone.

  Gaius straightened his clothes, checked his pocket once again for the remote, and dashed out of the dressing room. He made his way backstage, where he passed two stage hands and a lighting technician without speaking to them. His mind was in a strange place—half torpid from the sexual encounter, half revved up for the lecture. And he was running behind. Good thing he knew the format cold. Always start with a joke, then go into a short, interesting anecdote. Then introduce the main points. It was an old, familiar formula. The stage itself was empty except for a podium and a projection screen. Gaius couldn’t see the audience, of course, but the auditorium was hushed with expectation. He felt perfectly calm—stage fright had never been one of his failings. In fact, he quite enjoyed lecturing. One of the many ways to pass his knowledge on to lesser minds.

  “Um … Dr. Baltar?” said one of the stage hands. “Can I—”

  “Shh!” Baltar made curt gesture. “I’m concentrating.”

  The clock backstage showed five seconds to eight o’clock.

  “But I think you—”

  “Quiet! My gods, can’t anyone just do their job in silence anymore?”

  “Sure, sure,” the hand said. “They’re going to announce you in five seconds, then.”

  Five seconds later, a pre-recorded announcer said, “Ladies and gentlemen, our honored vice president, Dr. Gaius Baltar!”

  Gaius stepped out onto the stage, expecting tumultuous applause. What he got was some scattered clapping that echoed limply off the auditorium walls. Gaius blinked. The place was all but empty. He did a quick count. Fewer than a dozen people were scattered among the seats. Gaius gaped in astonishment. His mind was unable to comprehend what his eyes were telling him. Slowly, face flaming with embarrassment and outrage, he walked to the podium. It was only six steps away, but the distance felt like a thousand yards.

  “Um … good—good evening,” he stammered. “I … uh, that is, it’s good to see that a few minds in the Fleet aren’t preoccupied with Peter Attis and his concert.”

  One man bolted to his feet, a shocked look on his face. “The concert is tonight?” He fled the auditorium. Four other people went with him.

  Gaius’s face hardened as he realized what the stage hand had been trying to tell him—and what Number Six had prevented him from finding out. Peter Attis had made a fool of Gaius. In the wings, Number Six blew him a kiss.

  The crowd raised its hands and screamed in utter joy when Peter Attis bounced onto the stage like a blond god. His every movement crackled with power, and Kara, all but crushed at the edge of the platform, raised her arms and howled with the best of them. Beside her stood Lee Adama like a blue-eyed
statue in his crisp dress uniform. Kara wore a black jumpsuit, and with Dualla’s help, she had actually put on some makeup. It felt like she was wearing a mask, and she had to remind herself not to touch her face.

  “Good evening, Colonials!” Peter boomed into the microphone, and the crowd shrieked again. “The Cylons haven’t found us yet, so let’s make some noise!”

  Kara let loose with a wild whoop that was almost lost in the thunder of the crowd around her. Far above, Cloud 9’s artificial sun showered gentle warmth and golden light on the assembled concertgoers. The clear dome reflected back the image of the trees, shrubs, and lawns planted about the wide-open space, creating the illusion that the place was much bigger than it was and hiding the fact that visitors were on board a space ship. As a luxury liner, the Cloud 9 boasted swimming pools, hotels, spas, and other arenas for entertainment and relaxation, including several stages. Gaius Baltar had already booked the main auditorium, but Peter had said the outdoor theater would provide a better venue anyway. Garden tiers packed with people led down and in to the raised stage. A freestanding backdrop combined with a powerful sound system to ensure that everyone could hear. Peter stood alone on the stage—the music was pre-recorded from the stash provided by President Roslin and a few other hastily located Attis fans—and there had been no time for backup singers to rehearse. As a result, this concert would be a little on the plain side, but no one seemed to mind.

  “I said, ‘Let’s make some noise!’” Peter shouted, and the crowd screamed even louder. “The Cylons tried to kill us, they failed, so let’s party!”

  The speakers slammed to life with a song Kara hadn’t heard for years but still remembered with amazing clarity.

  I gave you twelve soft kisses

  At twelve noon every day

  But you just took twelve kisses

  And ripped my heart away.

  Peter’s golden voice turned the simple lyrics into powerful poetry. He leaped and danced as he sang, swirling the microphone cord around him like a whip. The front of his shirt was open, displaying well-defined muscle. Below him, the crowd danced like a giant living thing. Ripples of movement swayed through it, like wind rushing over grass. Kara loved every second. Peter finished his first song and went on to a second, one that also had a fast beat.